Patchwork Linoleum
by Noir Lime Canuto
Summary: A collection of drabbles about various characters fitting random prompts. Expect random and familiar pairings, fluff, and sprinkle of sadness here and there.
1. Un peu

**A/N: **I've decided that I need to write more. I tend to put things off, and then get anxious about them, even the things I love doing, like writing. So, to try to combat this icky pattern, I've decided to challenge myself to write a few little drabbles every day to random prompts I find via Wikipedia [it's a complicated process]. Anyway, thanks for reading, reviews are much appreciated :)

**-o-x-o-**

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, who I am in no way affiliated with. I am not profiting off of this work. No copyright infringement is intended. _

Prompts: _Outstanding, France, magazine_

**Un Peu**

"Pansy, I have no idea how you get Outstandings when I never see you study."

Daphne is curled up in an armchair as she says this, reading last month's Witch Weekly magazine. Tucked inside of it is the Quibbler, but I always pretend not to see. She doesn't realize how suspicious it looks to eagerly read an old issue of a magazine the day a different magazine updates each month.

"_Some_ of us don't _need_ to study," I answer, "I don't see why _I_ should when I'm getting O's already. Do _you_?"

Daphne shakes her head quickly and ducks down behind her two-layers of magazine. I don't know why people always seem to react with their bodies to things that only bother their heads. It's not really cunning of Daphne to do this, but I decide not to mention it. A while later she speaks again.

"If you're not studying, what _are_ you doing?"

I study her. She's being nosy again, but I don't say anything, because she looks like she might duck down again.

"I'm writing in French."

"Why?"

I hate that question. Daphne asks it entirely too much. But I patiently wait for her to invent a response for herself, like she so often does. I'm very patient. I know I don't have to wait any longer when a dreamy look comes over her face.

"Do you have a boyfriend in France? Oooh, and I bet he loves when you speak to him in broken French! Yes, he must find it positively _adorable_, and he tells you so quickly in French—but, your French being poor, you don't quite understand—so he repeats it under his breath in English, and his accent is _to die for_, and his voice is _so_ charmingly deep," she finally breaks off to sigh.

I keep writing for a while, and when I look up again I realize Daphne's gone to bed and Draco's reading in the armchair now—though, naturally, he isn't reading Witch Weekly.

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you speak French?"

"Un peu."

Now it's my turn to sigh.


	2. Lys

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, who I am in no way affiliated with. I am not profiting off of this work. No copyright infringement is intended. _

Prompts: _Naturalists, Demetrius, department_

**Lys**

Lorcan was getting fed up with answering questions. Every day, all the time, random kids would come up to him and ask to hear the rest of a story his twin would begin. Honest, he loved his brother, truly he did, and his fantastical stories were amazing to listen to, but he really, really wished that Lysander would stop claiming that they were _true_ stories. He wished people would stop believing him, at the very least.

Why _did_ people believe him, anyways? It wasn't like everything he said was realistic. In fact, most of it wasn't.

_ "Lorc, is it true that your dad works in the Department of Mysteries?"_

_ "Nah, he works for the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures."_

_ "So he still fights wild hippogriffs, though, right?"_

_ "He and my mum travel the world studying stuff, though he does have this gash on his arm from a hippogriff he refused to mount."_

_ "So he's like a naturalist?"_

_ "I guess. Is that muggle?"_

Lorcan knew why people believed everything his brother said. There was this fire in his eyes when he spoke. This passion. Even when the story was about other people, you believed he was there. It was like he'd already lived it, and then as he spoke, you were living it with him. You were hanging on his every word.

_"Lorc, is it true that your birth name is Demetrius because of a prophecy made about you and Lys?"_

You wanted to believe him.

_"Yup, Lorcan's my middle name. You should ask Lys about it sometime, he's the only one who'll tell you, our mum trembles at the thought of it..."_

And sometimes you did.

**-o-x-o-**


	3. Merlin's Fine Lingerie

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, who I am in no way affiliated with. I am not profiting off of this work. No copyright infringement is intended. _

Prompts: _Old, steely, joker_

**Merlin's Fine Lingerie**

"Why, Rose? _Why_?" James was looking at her with hesitant curiosity. His voice was a little too loud, and that would be owing to the fact that he'd been taken rather at surprise. She didn't bother to tell him to keep it down, as they were in the Gryffindor common room, and everyone was used to how loud James was by now. Some even appreciated it, though Rose saw it as a fault.

She'd asked herself that same question so many times, and there were a million different easy-out answers she could give...

_ "Love just is."_

_ "None of your business."_

_ "Why not?"_

_"Well, I don't really know myself."_

Except, she did know. She knew exactly why, and if James were going to ask a stupid question like that than he deserved to have to sit through her bizarre answer.

"Because his eyes are the most amazing color. They're a steely sort of grey-blue, except they never look cold. No, they're gray, but they're _warm_, and when he says something particularly clever he won't look at you in the eye with them, no, he looks away, embarrassed by his own wit.

"Because when I hug him he always smells like old books and parchment. Even after training for Quidditch, even when he hasn't stepped foot in the Library all day, he still smells like he's been buried in old books... and vanilla. He always smells a little bit like vanilla, too.

"Because he has that _smile_. When he grins, it's all crooked, like a joker's, except that's not how he acts. He's never that confident, or apathetic, or craving of attention. He's always polite, and considerate, and careful in everything he does.

"Because-"

"_Merlin's fine lingerie_, Rose, forget I asked!" James cut her off, shaking his head.

"Because he's _Scorpius_," Rose finished, in the most sickeningly sweet, fluttery voice she could muster, batting her eyelashes at James and swooning.

James made gagging gestures and ran off to tell Fred that Rose had helped him discover a new, highly effective torture technique.

**-o-x-o-**

** A/N:** I'm sorry to those I disappointed by giving this drabble a title it could never live up to, I couldn't help myself. Anyway, thanks for reading, and that goes doubly for reviewing. Have a great day :D


	4. Superhero

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, who I am in no way affiliated with. I am not profiting off of this work. No copyright infringement is intended. _

Prompts: _Mozambique, Batman, gun_

**Superhero**

Dean added a few newt's spleens to the potion and looked over at Goyle. Maybe he was a Slytherin, but if they could work together on a potion they might as well have a conversation. Who knew, maybe they could be friends—they weren't in the same house, but they were both in first year, at least. The boy looked kind of like a gorilla, but it was no use judging by looks.

"So, you're a Pureblood, then?"

"Yeah, 'course. Aren't you?"

"Nope."

"So, you're a Mudblood."

Dean shrugged, "Maybe, dunno what that means."

"Jus' means muggleborn, s'all."

"Oh, yeah, I'm one of those, I think."

Goyle just nodded dumbly.

"My dad might've been a wizard. Pretty sure he was a muggle, though. He died when I was really little. All I know if he was from Mozambique."

"Did he get killed with a goon?" It was rather a rude question to ask, but Goyle looked genuinely interested. He also seemed rather stupid, so Dean decided that it was less a lack of tact and more a lack of brain.

"A _gun_, you mean? Probably. My mum mentioned a war, once, but she doesn't like to talk about him much."

Goyle nodded, "Me pa tol' me 'bout goons, but not a lot. Dunno much 'bout Mudblood stuff."

"So, you've never heard of Batman, then?"

Goyle nodded, "I have. Draco said people think me pa's a bad man."

"No, no, _Bat_ man."

"Vampire? Thought muggles didn' know 'bout them."

"Nah, see, Batman is a superhero... That's like a muggle character who has magic. Like one who can perform one a couple spells, but without a wand, and goes around fighting evil."

"A muggle who does magic?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"So, this Batman, he's just Mudblood, ain't he?"

Dean shrugged and started mixing the potion. He didn't talk to Goyle much after Seamus explained to him what mudblood meant, so he never recalled that day as the beginning to a beautiful friendship, or anything, instead, he remembered it as the day he realized he was a superhero.

**x**


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